


Green Light

by Magnolia822



Series: The Landed Series [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:12:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolia822/pseuds/Magnolia822
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur invite Gwaine back to their flat. Sexytimes ensue. Sequel to In-Flight Entertainment, which was written for Kinkspiration Round 5: Role-play. Familiarity with the first part of the story recommended but not essential.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Light

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Asya_Ana for the beta!

A couple days after the most interesting flight of his life, Gwaine pauses outside of Merlin and Arthur’s flat, anticipation making him nervy.  
  
He smiles with his hand poised to knock, thinking back to the moment when he’d opened the stall door in the airport loo, interrupting the exchange of two very surprised, somewhat embarrassed blokes; Merlin and Arthur had obviously not expected to be overheard, especially not by their in-flight companion and current topic of conversation. Still, he’d never been one to let an opportunity pass him by, and so he’d taken the chance and inquired if they were serious about asking him back to their flat. And did they really think he was hot?  
  
They were. And they did. Dirty lads.  
  
Not that Gwaine’s complaining. The truth is he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Merlin and Arthur since the flight, though he’s still a bit confused about who is who. Over the past forty-eight hours he’s had plenty of time to fantasize. He can’t decide which of them he wants to fuck more, or whether he’d rather be the one fucked.  
  
Maybe all of the above.  
  
He knocks. It’s Cheekbones who opens the door, hair wet and messy from the shower. He smiles when he sees Gwaine, a response that livens his whole face. It suits him much more than the scowl he wore on the plane.  
  
“Hi,” he says, close enough for Gwaine to smell his minty breath. “Glad you could make it.” His accent is charming, a lilting twang to it that almost sounds Irish. Gwaine grins back as Merlin lets him in.  
  
“I wouldn’t have missed this,” he says, casting his eyes around for Blondie. It’s a nice place. Posh. But he’d presumed as much when they’d given him the address. “Merlin. Right? Or would you rather go by Arthur?” Gwaine isn’t sure whether Merlin and Arthur want to continue their role-reversal, since they’d so obviously enjoyed themselves on the plane.  
  
That question earns Gwaine a blush from Merlin, which suits him quite well. Perhaps his embarrassment over being caught indicates he’s the less kinky of the two. From what Gwaine’d overheard in the airport toilets, the role-playing game had been Arthur’s idea in the first place.  
  
“You can call me Merlin,” Cheekbones says. “It was confusing . . . that.” He blushes deeper, but then shrugs. “And I practiced my role.”  
  
“You practiced?” Gwaine laughs.  
  
“Yeah. Had to make it authentic, you know. Drive him crazy.”  
  
“It was very impressive. You were a total arse,” Gwaine says. “He doesn’t really act like that, does he?”  
  
“He’s not as bad as he used to be, but he has his moments.” Merlin rolls his eyes, but the look on his face is fond.  
  
“So where is the—” Before Gwaine can finish the question, Arthur appears, just as freshly washed as Merlin, and Gwaine really wishes he’d been invited to the party a bit earlier. Showering alone is decidedly less fun.  
  
“Gwaine,” Arthur says, taking his hand and smiling. “Nice to see you again.” He’s got a firm grip.  
  
“And you.”  
  
Blondie’s clothes are less casual than those he wore on the plane, but Gwaine approves. The dark-washed jeans and white button-down shirt show off his tanned skin, the undone collar giving Gwaine a teasing glimpse of golden chest hair.  
  
“Nice flat,” Gwaine says, tearing his eyes away as Arthur leads him toward the sitting room, Merlin trailing behind. The leather sofa is buttery and soft when Gwaine sits, accepting a glass of red wine from Merlin, who takes the space to his left.  
  
“Yeah, it’s Arthur’s,” Merlin says.  
  
“It’s ours,” Arthur corrects, pouring two more out of the same open bottle. Merlin smiles when Arthur gives him one, taking a sip and murmuring in appreciation. Those lips on the rim of the glass inspire a lazy arousal in the pit of Gwaine’s stomach.  
  
“So,” Gwaine says, “how long have you been together?”  
  
“Almost two years,” Merlin replies, eyes latching on Arthur, who takes the seat on the other side of Gwaine. Being framed by such gorgeous men is quite all right, so Gwaine settles back into the sofa with his wine, letting the warm fuzz of alcohol relax away his residual nerves.  
  
Gwaine raises his eyebrows and his glass. “Cheers. That’s a long time.”  
  
“It is.” Arthur smiles, reaching over Gwaine and giving Merlin’s knee an affectionate squeeze. It’s a proprietary gesture as much as it is a loving one, and Gwaine gets the message loud and clear. They may be inviting him into their bed tonight, but that’s as far as this will go.  
  
“And did you really meet on a plane?” he asks.  
  
“Yeah. We thought we’d get back to basics,” Merlin says. “Though the first time didn’t go so well.”  
  
Arthur snorts, catches Merlin’s eyes. They laugh and Gwaine decides he’s missing half the joke, but that’s okay because Merlin’s hand has somehow found its way onto his thigh.  
  
“To say the least,” Arthur agrees. “I thought you were an uncouth idiot.”  
  
“And I thought you were an oblivious clotpole.”  
  
“What exactly is a clotpole?” Gwaine asks.  
  
“It’s not a real word,” Arthur says. Merlin responds by reaching over with his free hand and mussing Arthur’s hair.  
  
“You’re just jealous you didn’t come up with it. And it is real. It’s Shakespeare.”  
  
“ _Shakespeare._ ” Arthur pronounces the word with incredulity. “Don’t be daft.”  
  
“It’s in _Troilus and Cressida,_ I’ll have you know.”  
  
“Merlin here fancies himself a bit of a scholar,” Arthur says to Gwaine. Merlin huffs a sigh and sips his wine, smiling into his glass.  
  
“Arthur here isn’t fond of being wrong.”  
  
“So if your first meeting didn’t go quite . . . so well,” Gwaine says, interrupting their banter, “how did you end up together?”  
  
“He left his phone behind on the plane,” Merlin says, rolling his eyes. “And even though I thought he was a complete dick, I felt bad. So I returned it.”  
  
“The rest, as they say . . .” Arthur gestures around, and Gwaine nods. The hand on his thigh is getting more and more distracting, now resting only a couple of inches from his cock, which is hardening in his jeans. Merlin doesn’t give any indication he notices.  
  
They make small talk for a few more minutes, refilling wine glasses. Both Merlin and Arthur want to know more about Gwaine, what he does for a living, and so he tells them about the music industry, how he’d gotten started producing. Ultimately, this appeals more to Merlin than to Arthur, and Gwaine notices with some satisfaction that Merlin is impressed.  
  
“So you must travel a lot,” Merlin observes.  
  
“Mostly between New York, L.A., and London,” Gwaine says. “But yeah. I won’t be around for much more than a week.”  
  
“Well, then we’re glad we were able to catch you,” Arthur says, his deep voice growing soft as he moves closer, trailing a hand up Gwaine’s arm to squeeze his bicep before moving to rub his shoulder. Gwaine could get used to this, he decides, relaxing under the touch.  
  
They’ve just about polished off a bottle and a half of wine when Merlin’s hand on his thigh gets bolder, one of his long fingers brushing against Gwaine’s now substantial bulge. And then again.  
  
“Do you lads do this often?” Gwaine finishes off the last sip of his wine and settles the glass down on the table. His dick is definitely interested in Merlin’s little tease.  
  
Merlin shakes his head. “No. Well, once, but . . . it’s been a while.”  
  
“Well, then I feel especially lucky. I just want to know the limits.” He’s been with couples before, and the night can go downhill quickly if one or the other gets jealous.  
  
Arthur and Merlin look at each other for a beat.  
  
“No limits,” Arthur says.  
  
It’s just what Gwaine’s been waiting to hear. He grins, opening his arms wide. “Bloody fantastic.”  
  
Merlin makes the move that starts things rolling. He leans forward, threading his hands through Gwaine’s hair and drawing him into a kiss that tastes like mint and wine and unfamiliar man. His lips are soft and warm and Gwaine runs his tongue along Merlin’s full bottom lip before deepening the kiss, turning into it even as Arthur’s hands drop to his crotch to squeeze his erection. His cock hardens even more at the firmer pressure, and he lets out a groan as Merlin licks into his mouth. God, he’s a perfect kisser. Arthur is one lucky wanker because Gwaine’s fantasies during the past couple days didn’t come close to this.  
  
The hands on his body—Merlin’s, Arthur’s, he’s not sure, lost as he is in the haze of kissing— slip loose the buttons of his shirt, slide under. One strokes his chest, tweaking a nipple, gliding over his stomach. The shock of a set of lips on his neck has Gwaine reeling, not knowing where to lean, where to press. His cock wants attention but Gwaine’s enjoying himself too much to rush.  
  
Merlin breaks the kiss, his eyes sleepy with desire as he watches Arthur suck on Gwaine’s neck before leaning in to do the same. It’s incredible; Gwaine can’t remember if he’s ever felt anything like the two demanding mouths, the hands squeezing his still-clothed cock, bare chest and torso. He doesn’t mind relinquishing control to lovers in bed, and that’s clearly what these blokes want. Even so, he wants to touch them, too. He reaches down to feel for Merlin’s cock, gratified to find it hard, and gives it a firm squeeze. A sigh against his neck lets him know his attentions are welcome.  
  
When Arthur kisses him, it’s forceful, more demanding. His tongue massages Gwaine’s with long stroking plunges that feel like fucking. Arthur smells spicier than Merlin, like cologne and cinnamon, and Gwaine can’t decide who smells or tastes better. He’s glad he doesn’t have to.  
  
Then someone undoes his zip. Gwaine lets out another groan as his cock is sprung free and stroked by one—then two hands. Gwaine ends the kiss to look down, desire running in pulsing waves up his spine at the sight of Arthur and Merlin’s joined hands working his cock.  
  
“Fuck, you have a nice dick,” Merlin says, and Gwaine gusts a laugh.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Merlin doesn’t waste any time. He leans down and Gwaine feels the warm lick of a tongue over his slit, dipping under his foreskin. He groans, hips thrusting upwards involuntarily. That’s how it continues, small licks and gentle caresses that harden Gwaine’s cock but don’t alleviate any pressure.  
  
“He’s such a tease,” Arthur says, kissing the top of Merlin’s head, a gesture that makes Gwaine smile until the suction of Merlin’s full lips around his cock numb his mind. Fuck, it’s so good after the light touches; Merlin takes it almost all the way in and Gwaine hits the back of his throat. It makes him wild.  
  
Arthur vacillates between watching Merlin and kissing Gwaine, his hand slipping to his jeans to release his own prick. It’s a heady combination, being blown while watching Arthur wank himself slowly. His cock is thick and pink and gorgeous, and Gwaine wants nothing more than to put his mouth on it, an impossibility given his position. He settles for touching, fondling Arthur’s heavy balls as the blond works himself; Gwaine’s too distracted by what Merlin’s doing to be any real assistance.  
  
“God . . . your mouth,” Gwaine says, not even aware he’s spoken until Merlin pops up and gives him a wet-lipped grin.  
  
“Not bad?” he asks, cheeky bugger.  
  
Gwaine can only let his head fall back, loll against Arthur’s shoulder as he searches for a kiss. It goes on and on, and Gwaine is lost in the hazy pleasure of Arthur’s lips and tongue, Merlin’s strong, capable mouth sucking him off, the hardness of Arthur’s cock slipping through his fingers. Just when he thinks it can’t get any better, Arthur leaves off kissing him and draws Merlin away from Gwaine’s cock, only to lick inside his mouth as if he wants a taste for himself.  
  
Merlin and Arthur’s mouths move together in deep, sucking kisses that Gwaine knows are slicked by his own saliva and precome. Arthur runs his hands over Merlin’s shoulders, cups his face tenderly. They’re so obviously in love Gwaine almost feels like an intruder, prick stiff and neglected between them, until Arthur takes it and holds it for Merlin, massaging the base as Merlin resumes his maddening, slow suck.  
  
And then Arthur’s hand is on the back of Merlin’s head, guiding him, and Gwaine has to close his eyes against the sight.  
  
“Maybe we should move this to the bedroom?” Arthur proposes after God knows how long. It sounds like a bloody fantastic idea to Gwaine, whose arse is now firmly suctioned to the leather sofa, trousers trapping his legs together. He instantly regrets the loss of Merlin’s mouth, but smiles as Merlin tugs his trousers the rest of the way off. Gwaine’s cock slaps against his belly as he helps shimmy out of them, and then follows the two men to their bedroom.  
  
It’s a spacious room with a wide, white bed and grey walls; more Spartan than he expects from Merlin, but perhaps suited to Arthur. As soon as they enter Arthur begins stripping Merlin with efficient movements that show he’s quite practiced at the task. Gwaine stands and watches, stroking his erection to relieve the ache as Arthur pushes Merlin’s trousers off and unveils the long cut cock Gwaine’s been dreaming about. It looks delicious, even more so when Arthur takes both of their erections in hand and strokes, twining his free hand in Merlin’s dark hair. They kiss again, long and slow, and Gwaine feels like they’re back on the plane and he’s only allowed to watch, not to touch. It’s frustrating, but hot as hell, the way they complement each other, light and dark, Arthur’s broad chest against Merlin’s slighter frame. Aside from some blond down on his legs and a light spread on his chest and at the base of his cock, Arthur is virtually hairless. Merlin has a dark happy trail that Gwaine would love to trace with his tongue; it stands out in relief against his pale skin.  
  
“Fuck, you two are gorgeous,” he says, unable to stop himself. Arthur turns toward him and beckons.  
  
Gwaine follows, because, well, he’s not a fucking idiot, and finds himself being pressed down on the wide king-sized bed by Merlin while Arthur takes his prick again, slipping his mouth over it and rubbing his tongue over the head. Merlin growls in approval, kissing Gwaine before moving down to where Arthur is, whispering something in his ear. Arthur nods.  
  
“So, what do you want to do?” Arthur asks Gwaine.  
  
There’s only one thing Gwaine can think of, and it’s having his hands on both of their luscious cocks at once. He pushes up from his supine position and eyes Merlin’s erection.  
  
“That,” he says, and Merlin lets out a little laugh as Gwaine swoops down and takes the leaking prick into his mouth. It’s salty and clean and bitter on his tongue, and Gwaine suckles it deep, working Arthur over with his hand as he inhales Merlin to the root. He can’t help dragging his own cock against the bed, humping to the rhythm of his suck.  
  
Merlin’s hips jerk and he makes a pained sound. “I’m . . . I’m gonna come if you do that,” Merlin says, and at first Gwaine’s lust-clouded brain thinks maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, but a protest from Arthur stops him in his tracks.  
  
“I want to watch you fuck him,” Arthur says. Gwaine lifts his head and sees Arthur is addressing Merlin. He’s not very put out, because the idea of Merlin pounding his arse sounds pretty fucking amazing.  
  
Merlin bites his lip, looks from Arthur to Gwaine. “What do you . . .”  
  
“That’s a bloody brilliant idea, mate,” Gwaine assures him. It’s been a while, though, so he adds, “just make sure to . . .”  
  
“Oh, I’ll take care of you.” Merlin kisses him sweetly, drawing his bottom lip between his and giving it a nip. Arthur’s already up off the bed, probably searching for protection and lube, and Gwaine uses the moment to wrap his arms around Merlin, feel his ribcage expand and contract with breath.  
  
What happens next is a blur. Gwaine’s flipped over, arse in air, and Merlin and Arthur are pressing soft kisses there, spreading him open. He feels a cool slickness on his crack as the lube is dispensed, and then the slow slide of one finger into his hole. He presses back, feeling the sting as the finger begins a curling thrust.  
  
He braces himself and looks back over his shoulder, inhaling sharply. It’s Arthur’s finger inside him, and the blond’s eyes are fixated on the place where his digit is appearing and disappearing into Gwaine. Merlin is holding Gwaine’s arse open, kissing Arthur’s neck, rubbing his cock against Arthur’s thigh as Arthur finger-fucks Gwaine.  
  
“Goddamn,” Gwaine mutters. Arthur’s head snaps up and their gazes meet; it’s heated, the look, filled with the knowledge that Arthur’s about to watch his lover fuck another man and he wants it, God he wants it. All of them do. Gwaine’s cock drips sticky onto the bed as Arthur adds another finger, twists them inside.  
  
“Want to make him so good for you,” Arthur whispers to Merlin. Gwaine can’t tell if it’s meant for him to hear or not; it doesn’t matter. Merlin whimpers, kissing the edge of Arthur’s mouth. “Shit,” Arthur mutters. “He’s tight.”  
  
It’s unsettling for a moment, feeling like a waiting vessel to be filled, a vessel at the mercy of Merlin and Arthur’s pleasure, but it’s also exhilarating. Gwaine wants to come with Merlin’s cock in his arse, wants it, wants . . .  
  
Arthur turns to Gwaine. “Your arse is going to be so good.” Gwaine can only nod and thrust back on the fingers, wanting more . . . fuck . . . and there’s a third. Arthur’s fingers are thick and long and they are slowly taking Gwaine apart.  
  
Merlin sheaths himself with a condom while Arthur withdraws from Gwaine to slick Merlin’s prick with lube, leaving Gwaine feeling vacant, his body needy for the imminent fuck.  
  
The two men kiss again, and then Arthur guides Merlin’s cock into Gwaine’s arse, his breath hissing out in time with Gwaine’s at the breach. The stretch burns, and Gwaine turns to brace himself for the first withdrawal and thrust. Merlin starts slowly, working his cock almost all the way out before driving it back in an intense, sure stroke that forces a gasp out of Gwaine.  
  
“How’s it feel? Good?” It’s Arthur’s voice. _Good?_ It feels fucking amazing, but it’s Merlin who answers for them both.  
  
“God . . . it feels . . . amazing.”  
  
Gwaine hears the sounds of kissing and squeezes his hole around Merlin’s cock, reminding the others he’s here and bloody well ready to be fucked good and hard. The hands on his arse squeeze, and then he feels a kiss right next to his crack, hands fondling his balls, stroking his cock as Merlin slides in and out, building a rhythm that leaves them both grunting. When he dares cast another look over his shoulder Arthur is eyeing him hungrily, one hand on his cock, the other at Gwaine’s arse, rubbing.  
  
Then he feels it, the cool slick of more lube. Merlin slows his fuck and then there’s additional pressure at Gwaine’s hole; it’s the slide of another finger . . . Arthur’s finger slips in alongside Merlin’s cock and it’s . . . _damn_ . . . it’s as full as Gwaine’s ever felt. He shudders, cock leaping against his stomach, ready to come without a touch. The idea of being breached by both of them is too much. He bites his lip hard to stave off his orgasm.  
  
Merlin’s movements are small now, stroking him deeply but not moving so fast as to dislodge Arthur’s finger. It rubs at his rim with each stroke, the girth making Gwaine imagine two pricks inside . . .  
  
But what he really wants is Arthur’s cock in his mouth.  
  
Gwaine loves the feeling of being sandwiched between two partners. He loves the taste of a pussy while he’s being fucked, but there’s something about having a cock in both ends that sets Gwaine off like a rocket, so when Arthur’s finger slips out of his arse, he doesn’t spare a moment for regret.  
  
“Come up here,” he says, panting over his shoulder.  
  
Arthur seems to know exactly what’s on Gwaine’s mind, and he only has a minute to wait before he’s face to face with Arthur’s sticky, musky cock. He takes it in as Merlin fucks into him and soon they’ve built a rhythm, the three of them. Every time Merlin pounds Gwaine, he lurches onto Arthur’s prick, and it’s messy and hot and Arthur’s hands are in Gwaine’s hair. His throat opens to take it, just as he’s being taken from behind, and the room is filled with the sounds of sex, the grunting and slapping of skin, of tongues and lips as Merlin leans forward to kiss Arthur. Sometimes Merlin fists Gwaine’s neglected prick, but he’s too occupied to maintain a satisfying rhythm, and Gwaine’s too busy slurping Arthur’s cock to take care of himself. All Gwaine can do is pray someone will have mercy on him, and soon, because he’s close to getting his nut and he’d prefer to do it in a mouth, or a hand at least.  
  
A few seconds later, Arthur starts to pull out of Gwaine’s mouth, mumbling something, but Gwaine shakes his head because, God help him, he wants to drink Arthur’s come. He looks up and just then Arthur throws his head back, his face contorted as his orgasm hits him, driving him forward deep—too deep. It makes Gwaine gag, but the feel of Arthur’s cock pulsing in his mouth is worth it. Arthur withdraws and nearly collapses on the bed, gathering Gwaine down for a kiss that tastes like all of them.  
  
It can’t last long, though, because Merlin is pounding him hard, and Gwaine’s thighs are close to giving way. Almost every thrust hits him where it counts, and he shudders, hips canting forward and back in helpless concession.  
  
“Fuck . . . gonna come,” Merlin says behind him, and the hands on his sides grip tightly as a few more strong plunges shatter him apart. Gwaine can feel Merlin’s cock burst in his arse, and Gwaine groans, fucked stupid but still horny as hell. And then, sweet Mary and Jesus and all the Saints, Arthur’s moving under him and sucking Gwaine’s prick into his mouth, and that’s all it takes. Gwaine whites out, nearly humping Arthur’s face into the mattress as he comes and comes, Merlin a slumped and boneless weight on his back.  
  
It takes a while for any of them to move, but when they finally do it’s only to perform a brief cleanup and to turn off the light. Gwaine thinks maybe he should go, but when Merlin curls against him, Arthur on his other side, both of them warm and smelling like the promise of more sex in the morning, he can’t bring himself to leave.  
  
He sleeps the deep sleep of the utterly sated, and in the morning he is the last to wake up. Arthur is on top of Merlin. They’re fucking slowly, face-to-face, mouths together and hands entwined over Merlin’s head. Gwaine’s morning wood takes a decided interest, but he’s not sure he’s wanted . . .  
  
Until Arthur turns his head and smiles.


End file.
